I Live As a Shadow

Cut I do, not the sides of paper. Nor do I attempt the use of scissors. I cut needles into my veins. I smack my tears below my eyes. I taste every single hurtful cry. I walk among the dead. They are alive with death. I live as a shadow. I live inside death as my shade. I see the tree hanging with a rope. You only want to feel loved. I scream but not to the clouds above. My shouts are meant for me. My curse is nailed to my cross. Hammered by the stone I use as a coffin. I listen to witches whistle. I wish for the witch which witch. I am cloned by my shadow. I walk backwards in her flaming footprints. Grey blood bleeds while I paint the portrait. The picture displays a window. I stare into a broken mirror. My face is cracked. I have cracks in my face.